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Father Goriot-Part27_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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of going when the last boarders went. He had fathomed the young

man's thoughts, and felt that a crisis was at hand. Rastignac



was, in fact, in a dilemma, which many another young man must

have known.



Mme. de Nucingen might love him, or might merely be playing with

him, but in either case Rastignac had been made to experience all



the alternations of hope and despair of genuinepassion, and all

the diplomatic arts of a Parisienne had been employed on him.



After compromising herself by continually appearing in public

with Mme. de Beauseant's cousin she still hesitated, and would



not give him the lover's privileges which he appeared to enjoy.

For a whole month she had so wrought on his senses, that at last



she had made an impression on his heart. If in the earliest days

the student had fancied himself to be master, Mme. de Nucingen



had since become the stronger of the two, for she had skilfully

roused and played upon every instinct, good or bad, in the two or



three men comprised in a young student in Paris. This was not the

result of deep design on her part, nor was she playing a part,



for women are in a manner true to themselves even through their

grossest deceit, because their actions are prompted by a natural



impulse. It may have been that Delphine, who had allowed this

young man to gain such an ascendency over her, conscious that she



had been too demonstrative, was obeying a sentiment of dignity,

and either repented of her concessions, or it pleased her to



suspend them. It is so natural to a Parisienne, even when passion

has almost mastered her, to hesitate and pause before taking the



plunge; to probe the heart of him to whom she intrusts her

future. And once already Mme. de Nucingen's hopes had been



betrayed, and her loyalty to a selfish young lover had been

despised. She had good reason to be suspicious. Or it may have



been that something in Eugene's manner (for his rapid success was

making a coxcomb of him) had warned her that the grotesque nature



of their position had lowered her somewhat in his eyes. She

doubtless wished to assert her dignity; he was young, and she



would be great in his eyes; for the lover who had forsaken her

had held her so cheap that she was determined that Eugene should



not think her an easy conquest, and for this very reason--he knew

that de Marsay had been his predecessor. Finally, after the



degradation of submission to the pleasure of a heartless young

rake, it was so sweet to her to wander in the flower-strewn



realms of love, that it was not wonderful that she should wish to

dwell a while on the prospect, to tremble with the vibrations of



love, to feel the freshness of the breath of its dawn. The true

lover was suffering for the sins of the false. This inconsistency



is unfortunately only to be expected so long as men do not know

how many flowers are mown down in a young woman's soul by the



first stroke of treachery.

Whatever her reasons may have been, Delphine was playing with



Rastignac, and took pleasure in playing with him, doubtless

because she felt sure of his love, and confident that she could



put an end to the torture as soon as it was her royal pleasure to

do so. Eugene's self-love was engaged; he could not suffer his



first passage of love to end in a defeat, and persisted in his

suit like a sportsman determined to bring down at least one



partridge to celebrate his first Feast of Saint-Hubert. The

pressure of anxiety, his wounded self-love, his despair, real or



feigned, drew him nearer and nearer to this woman. All Paris

credited him with this conquest, and yet he was conscious that he



had made no progress since the day when he saw Mme. de Nucingen

for the first time. He did not know as yet that a woman's



coquetry is sometimes more delightful than the pleasure of secure

possession of her love, and was possessed with helpless rage. If,



at this time, while she denied herself to love, Eugene gathered

the springtide spoils of his life, the fruit, somewhat sharp and






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